Dead Players
Dead Players
Dead Players
Dead Players
Dead Players
Dead Players & Lee Scott
Dead Players & Dabbla & Jam Baxter
Dead Players & Dabbla & Jam Baxter
Dead Players & Orifice Vulgatron & Illaman & Ocean Wisdom & Sox
Dead Players
Dead Players
(Sample)
The only answer's treat 'em rough
Tr-tr-tr-tr-treat 'em rough
Gotta be twice as hard as they think they are
Even friends don't last
An early lesson in... disposability
(Verse One – Jam Baxter)
Yeah, look
So I was riding a placenta out of this planets miscarriage
Ballied up, singing power ballads whilst I pissed acid
When the barbed wire mesh and circled the sky
I breeze through bleeding, tripping out, surfing a high
Brightly burning
I guess we’ll never make the final form
Auditioning for death threats
Face sipping, find the cure
Midnight's calling me, belling up my line at dawn
Screaming I will drag you to the shoobs by your spinal cord
Cool I’ll be there, save a spot between the freaks
Clubfooted, pigeon legs, stuck in weathered beaten teeth
Mark ‘em down as flightless, bitter, blind pilots
The chewing gum stains on the streets were skydivers
All scraped from the paving, a lifetime of training
To sit around the gunner’s scene they couldn’t find a place in
We were sprawled across every seat in the auditorium
So all the boring talk is obscured by a roaring audience
Now, a man made of mush pukes used needles
12 blue babies stab each other to amuse people
One scrawny fool fucks a nuke in the crude sequel
Starring our innards and a cast of scarred sinners
And any eye can scan a front page I murmured
As I can scan through a list of every stage I murdered
And then the sky folded out again, curled around my system
And ripped out a dark shade of crimson
(Hook x2)
I slip through life on the skin of my teeth
So I still ain't gotta listen to the civilised preach
That breeze, air, woft, gas
Bats in the attic all dropping en masse
(Verse 2 – Dabbla)
My styles like speeded up footage of shit growing
Get your fucking arse in the car and let’s get going
A whole lemon rolled to the window and lip blowing
With my pants half-cocked in the wip with my dick glowing
Funny how they pick up on words when they’re spat vulgar
Lower chakra shit got ‘em gagging to rap colder
Younger rappers thinking it’s cool if they act older
Just another chip off the block of a fat boulder
It’s how I’m living, it’s something I love doing yeah
Something I’d be damned if I’m letting you mugs ruin
I’ll have a rapper pooping his panties in one movement
Whilst I’m smoothly stepping out of the box that they dubbed you in
Go and judge a book by its cover, collect the karma
Instead of trying to better yourself and connect the dharma
None of us will be here forever
And life is fragile as a motherfucker
Humble yourself and forget the drama
As-salamu alaykum my people, what’s fucking gwarning?
Hunger seems to lose all its meaning when people starving
I’m trying to listen to writers who drop that knowledge
If I’m honest though I’ve heard it before and its proper jarring
Barring like I should have been sponsored by fucking Carling
Laughing at the style in your stance in which you be sparring
I’m sick of talking you’ll probably see me walking
Especially if you can’t handle your end of the fucking bargain
(Hook x2)
I slip through life on the skin of my teeth
So I still ain't gotta listen to the civilised preach
That breeze, air, woft, gas
Bats in the attic all dropping en masse
B.A.W.G was written by Dabbla & Jam Baxter.
B.A.W.G was produced by Ghost Town (Producer).
Dead Players released B.A.W.G on Mon Oct 26 2015.